


Pinnacle: At the Edge

by hauntedshoes



Series: Crossroads [1]
Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Angst, Existential Angst, Neopronouns, Other, lots of headcanons, might as well be an AU?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 09:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedshoes/pseuds/hauntedshoes
Summary: Climbing to the top of one of Ancap's skyscrapers, Ancom finds what qui shouldn't. The exit to the World of Ideas.Commie has some answers, but also some comfort.
Relationships: Authleft/Libleft, leftist unity - Relationship
Series: Crossroads [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1856995
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	Pinnacle: At the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> Ancom uses qui/quem/cuius/quemself (the pronouns coming from Latin and cuius is the genitive of qui, used as complement of noun)

Ancap, of course, would buy absolutely massive houses. Wide? Tall? Both? It didn’t matter so long as it was big. The house that Ancap had let the other ideologies rent out was one of what initially seemed to be ridiculous proportions. From the outside, it looked like some hybrid between a skyscraper and a futuristic telegraph tower. It was tall enough to reach an almost dizzying height from the ground and yet wide enough to not exactly feel like a skyscraper or a futuristic telegraph tower. The place was an illustrious mismatch between a building which served a function and something that was set up for people to live in. Then again, it would make sense that Ancap would mix his home lifestyle and his business lifestyle.

The mismatch was even greater on the inside. A majority of the giant building was designed to be house-like, on every floor. It had a normal kitchen on the twenty-third floor and even a roof garden that was shrouded off enough to pass off as a real garden. Then in another close by room on the same level, you could see the other skyscrapers in the strange LibRight city. All the invited extremists also had their own rooms on various levels of Ancap’s so-called house. By rooms, they were more like entire floors that each of the ideologies were allowed to access. Along with that, Ancap had allowed them to pretty much set up anything they wanted inside of them.

_ “Make yourself at home,”  _ he had said - those words a lie since he had planned to charge all of them rent.

As a result, most of the extremists had been incredibly restless sleeping so high up in the air in a way they weren’t used to the heightened feeling of vertigo. The fact it was owned by an Ancap only increased the discomfort.

The entire thing had a strange air to it as if it existed in two places at the same time. It had taken on two purposes when Ancap’s abhorrent wage slaves had first built it. Now it had a third, the Centricide headquarters. The mass of conflicting energies, not even an eight-six storey building could hold. Ancom could predict a petty argument over bread any day. No doubt that qui would be there for it.

It must have been around 4am when Ancom was lying restless on the sleeping bag qui had brought with quem.  _ Sleeping on a bed? Qui didn’t need that kind of luxury.  _ Ancom’s former anarchist hideout had been a simple place full of simple things and good people. Qui wasn’t going to fill it with useless rich people trinkets just because the option was there for cuius now. However, keeping that vibe going in Ancap’s awkward office spaces was difficult, both in the physical and the mind.

Ancom had been unable to get a wink of sleep not because of cuius poor choice of bedding and the whole Ancap thing but due to the luminous neon building lights of this strange LibRight city. This was not helped by Nazi on the storey below him still shouting curse words and slurs at that time of the night.  _ Did he also have trouble sleeping?  _ If Ancom had trouble sleeping, then the Nazi deserved it too.

It was reaching a point where Ancom felt that the struggle against the obnoxious laser light city was a lost battle. Ancom needed something to fill cuius time, and qui felt quemself tempted to get back into old anarchist habits.

Although it might not have looked that way from the outside considering cuius small frame, Ancom had quite enjoyed climbing buildings. For one qui enjoyed the thrill of climbing on top of property owned by capitalists when qui could. It felt like an assertion of power over them and their unjust accumulation of wealth. That and high places just let you get a better view of the World of Ideas.

The colours of the lights of the sun and everything else which dazzled the atmosphere was outstanding - blues, pinks, greens, yellows like shards of light which formed unnatural patterns. The sky itself was by nature, wrapped in the metaphorical as were the denizens of the World of Ideas and its constructions. Ancom had a hunch that there must have been another world where both the sky and the landscape made more sense where metaphors existed only as internal things and weren’t given external forms of life. Ancom wasn’t sure, qui just had a hunch.

The lights of the world always brought a sense of calm to Ancom, on top of all that. Sometimes qui would just sit on the rooftops of the greedy capitalists who took more than they deserved and just smoke some weed, especially if qui was alone. Thinking about it now, it wasn’t something that helped qui sleep, in fact, it would often do the opposite. But the more Ancom thought about, the more qui released Ancap definitely deserved it, would have felt a lot better if qui was illegally squatting thought. Ancom wondered if refusing to pay Ancap’s ‘rent fees’ counted as that.

Ancom would take the elevator first. It was easy enough, and then qui wouldn’t have to scale the whole building. Qui had some sense of risk-taking even if among the ideologies qui believed quemself to be one of the hardier ones. Ancom’s own room, well, storey, had its own elevator. A great grey thing just thrown into the far corner of the room. It would catch the neon lighting in the city and beam it back into Ancom’s eyes. Despite Ancap saying:  _ “Make yourself at home.”  _ There would be no way Ancom could replicate cuius old commune perfectly with this ugly transport service in the way. Then again, it would also help Ancom reach the roof, so it was serving what Ancom considered its purpose.

Ancom jabbed the button on the side repetitively. There wasn’t going to be anyone else using the lift system at this hour, but Ancom’s impatience knew no bounds. The interior of the elevator was all decked out in an ugly blue floral carpet. Ancap probably only brought it because it was expensive. The rest of the elevator, however, could have easily been replaced by one in one of the many disused buildings Ancom and cuius commune would set themselves up in. Nothing special and probably prone to breaking down. It shuddered and cracked against the sides it felt as if it would break if Ancom stamped hard enough. The back of Ancom’s subconscious whispered to quem that qui should just keep stomping until it did collapse and Ancap would have to clean up the damage. Ancom didn’t enjoy the concept of falling cuius death, though.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Ancom exited the elevator to find a room taken over by one large window. A panoramic view in a place that seemed untouched even by Ancap. A basic vinyl flooring which still smelt plastic-ish and new as if it hadn’t been walked on before. It was like an orb, the building’s own eye, at the top of the entire city. Most of the other ‘skyscrapers’ were far below this point, the cyan lighting looking like squares in an irregular pattern. Even after standing on the top of ever so many buildings, Ancom had never been that high up before, even in closed-off spaces. It would have made sense, most of the Anarchists that qui had known didn’t often encounter these behemoths of modern constructions all that often but strangely to Ancom qui couldn’t think of a real reason, as to why.

Through the window, the lights of the sky weren’t really visible from here. Ancom had assumed that it had been from the thick glass of the window, but it still wasn’t sitting well with quem. All that qui could see from here is a white, static atmosphere. Fizzing with grey stands of what looked like electricity but most likely wasn’t. Not even the residents of the World of Ideas really knew all of its inner workings. It was something that you sort of had to accept if you were an anthropomorphic personification living in a run by a symbolic thread. But something inside of Ancom, it couldn’t accept that, not right now, not tonight.

Ancom looked around the pod of a floor and found a small door. A white door with a glass frame so that you could see clearly inside of. The kind you might get at a hospital in one of the more centrist areas, one where you could look inside and see the patient. Instead, Ancom saw no patients waiting for treatment but rather a small hallway. A short hallway with the same blue-tiled floor that lead up to a tiny stairway that stopped abruptly.

_ If there was one way to the roof, this must be it. _

The door, which was open, much to Ancom’s surprise, crashed as it hit the wall. Ancom heard a crack as the hinges. Ancom realised that the door must have had hinges that had broken or come off.  _ Perhaps Ancap had broken them off? But why would he had broken them off?  _ Ancom didn’t even want to know.

Travelling along the small corridor, Ancom felt as if qui was flying. All clear around the edges. If you looked down for too long, you would definitely think that you were falling instead. The short, narrow stairway led up to what was a hatch against the ceiling. Once again, it was unlocked. With just a simple tap, it was open.

There was not a gush of air as Ancom might have expected but complete stillness. Qui started to climb up the roof cuius realised how the collision of purpose was also occurring at the highest point of the building. As Ancom left the hatch to the roof behind, qui found quemselves crawling along what looked like the roof you would find on any common house. Blue bricks sloping downward and a little non-functioning chimney. Ancom had first assumed it was there for decoration but who would use a chimney that nobody was supposed to see for decoration? Below the blue roof prop was a circular disk that would fit a lot better on a cyberpunk skyscraper of this magnitude, a silver metallic dish with a thin strip of blue glow around it.

Ancom felt around to find some comfortable place to sit. Qui closed cuius eyes and sighed, placing cuius hands on the rough roof tiles qui tried to relax, attempting to forget the weird room downstairs.

Then Ancom opened cuius eyes again, a bright white light pressing against cuius pupils forced them to open. Now the freezing and scorching light was worse. Ancom’s initial discomfort had been right, the sky was not beautiful here. The lights, all colours of the political compass, were not seen at this altitude.

A view white and grey. The colourful lights had been replaced, there was instead what appeared to be linear, grid lines, perfectly straight grid lines. The sky, it probably wasn’t even a sky, it rippled and dripped like an ocean. A physically watery passageway to somewhere…

It wasn’t something that Ancom had witnessed before, but it was drawing quem in. It was drawing quem in more than any drug trip cuius could remember. If Ancom could just reach out and touch it…

“Ancom! What are you even doing, don’t touch that!”

Before Ancom could do anything, qui was struck and fell onto the top of the so-called roof.

“Owww, what the heck was that?” Ancom whined. “Tankie, is that you?”

Ancom blinked again and saw that, yes, Tankie had somehow got here and found Ancom locked inside cuius little trance. Tankie was here clear as day though, no weird ripples in his skin or diagrams on his face.  _ Ah, yes, a perfectly normal Commie, of all things Commie was here, staring and normal. _

“Yes, it’s me, ah, Marx, am I glad I got you away from that when I did!”

Ancom sat up again, legs crossed, allowing the staring communist to at least be almost eye level with quem. The bricks which slopped downward hurt most of Ancom’s lower body as qui shuffled around to accommodate the sheer size of Tankie.

“Got me away from it? But it’s just…”

“Just what, Ancom, just what?” Tankie was kneeling in a way which should have been uncomfortable on a roof like this. Tankie’s pose was so stable, unwavering as if he was rooted in place.

“The sky, the sky at night right?” the pitch in Ancom’s voice wavered as qui lied.

“Wrong!”

“Wrong?” Ancom tiled cuius head.

“If you would have touched that for any longer then you would have become metaphysical!”

Ancom watched as Tankie’s face grew sterner and sterner.

“What are you looking at? Look at your face, you really had no idea?”

“I mean, look at us, Tankie, we’re like, metaphysical concepts already and stuff I don’t get why you’re so mad at me.”

Tankie relaxed his pose and shook his head. “Ancom, Ancom, what you are looking at above you right now is the barrier.”

“The barrier? Hm? Never heard of that.”

Tankie put his hand back down on the bricks, the weight of it making a cracking like sound, almost as if he had damaged them. If Ancom focused on Tankie’s dark eyes, he could see the white liquid light reflecting off his face.

“That’s right, of course, you haven’t. Of all people. The one who was was not aware of where they actually came would be you, Ancom.”

“Are you sprouting statist nonsense again Tankie is this some metaphor about how the sky should protect people from owning themselves or some other silly thing?” Ancom smiled almost to tease Tankie who was probably still angry at qui. Tankie liked being angry at qui.

“This has nothing to do with me being a statist, heck it has nothing to do with our ideas specifically it’s a little bit more than that.”

“More? Of if you have a cool story, please tell me!”

“Uh, story, I wouldn’t call it cool, more like necessary but if you want to think that it’s cool then sure, it’s cool.”

Ancom cheered and clapped cuius hands together. Looking at Tankie who seemed a little happier that Ancom was listening to him, it almost made quem forget about the hypnotic patterns just above quem. Ancom started to feel similar to how qui normally would feel when qui would climb rich people’s buildings.

“The barrier is kind of everywhere here, in the World of Ideas, well, I mean everywhere most of the upper atmosphere is the barrier, aka the passing point between this world and the uh, human world.”

“So, like where that anti-centrist guy said that he came from?”

“Yes, the human world, I think they call it Earth.”

Ancom nodded along with the new information. “Earth? Like, dirt or soil or…”

Tankie shrugged. “I suppose that’s where it comes from.”

“Wow, you know the names of everything Tankie! Even funny and weird ones! I mean, who names a plane of existence after dirt?”

“Humans are a funny lot, I mean they made most of us, in a semi literal and semi-figurative way.”

“We’re based off ideas right, ones that humans who are past this barrier thing had? It’s not something I think about all that much.”

Tankie’s dark brown eyes widened. “That’s good because you shouldn’t.”

“Hm?”

“I said figurative and literal because it is both figurative and literal. You can’t go through the barrier and hope to keep your body, you at best become a ghost for eighty years and at worst you become thoughts, feelings, memories.”

Tankie had stopped kneeling, his rambling bringing him lower and lower, closer and closer to the ground. Now he was really eye level with Ancom, staring at quem like he saw them as equals.

“Don’t be silly, Tankie,” Ancom said, reaching out cuius arms onto Tankie’s shoulders. “There aren’t any ghosts in the World of Ideas so how can there be any on Earth?”

Tankie made no attempt to remove Ancom’s hands. “Ghosts is the only way I can describe them, us, intangible tutelary deities sounds too long.”

“But but,’ intangible tutelary deities’ does sound cool!”

“Then we go we go with that then.” Tankie rolled his eyes. “Nevertheless, I suggest not going across the barrier unless you want to lose part of your conscious being, potentially until the end of civilisation.”

“That... does not sound cool.” Said Ancom still not entirely sure what Tankie meant exactly.

Tankie put his hand on Ancom’s side and pulled him toward him just a little. “Of course, it’s not, anything beyond the barrier does not comprehend us the same way the World of Ideas does. If it doesn’t break us apart, then it forces us to…”

“Forces us to what?”

“Well, uh temporarily lose our independence, Anarkitty, guess it could be worse.”

Ancom made a jolt, kind of like one a cat would make if someone threw water on it. Tankie’s words, along with the strange air of the night, was making Ancom feel incredibly cold.

“That really does not sound cool.”

Tankie shook his head and grabbed onto the other side of Ancom’s body to stop qui from falling over in cuius jittering.

“Of course, you would say that Anarkitty, but then again, it would be scary, even for me, just a little.”

“It’s a funny way you speak, Tankie, it’s like you’ve done some this before, have you?”

Tankie kept pulling in closer. Ancom wasn’t sure if he was protecting quem from the cold or from the above. His coat was heavier and softer than Ancom realised it was, maybe the way Tankie held himself contributed to its harsh image.

“I did, but once, and my memories were fuzzy. Humans, I think they are quite delightful when they listen to you and head your words as they should.”

Ancom leant on Tankie’s shoulder, pushing cuius head on it. “And when they don’t Tankie?”

“That’s impossible, not when my spirit is there. Not when I’m in their head.”

“So, it’s like, when you’re acting just as your ideology and not as a person?” Ancom felt quemselves shutting their eyes, even pressed against Tankie’s jacket the white still shot into cuius sockets.

“I am an ideology, just ideas, abstract, just that, we aren’t supposed to be real in the way we perceive ourselves and, in their world, we aren’t real. Ideas aren’t people Ancom.”

Ancom’s body was much less cold now. Tankie was warm, and qui could hear the communist’s heartbeat as their heads touched one another. “Then how come, how come we are real here, how come I can touch you and just not feel cold, or trapped…”

Ancom drew in closer and closer, surprised that Tankie hadn’t said a word about just how close qui was. The roof wasn’t there anymore, and neither was the portal that tore away consciousness. They were distant images in Ancom’s mind. 

Tankie let out the smallest laugh. “Because, Ancom, when a human believes in something hard enough, they can become an ideology too.”


End file.
